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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503696">The Snake and the Boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go'>Daastan_Go</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Language, Metamorphosis, Morbid, Mystery, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:15:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daastan_Go/pseuds/Daastan_Go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Uchiha Sasuke can't be taken over in time, Orochimaru resorts to more . . . drastic measures to extend his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Orochimaru &amp; Uchiha Itachi, Orochimaru &amp; Uchiha Sasuke, Orochimaru &amp; Yakushi Kabuto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Snake and the Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: Naruto is Kishimoto's property. I'm not making any money from this story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p># # # # # #</p><p>Morn, sundered by shadow—a new night. Into the serpent’s belly and its depths, a croaking sound throbbed. Jaws unhinged and smelly, slimy saliva went down to the floor, as they worked vigorously to consume the prey. First, the head went in, wailing—the rest quivered and twitched, a child's toy, as it fought its final battles.</p><p>The limbs, very lively in the shadows, looked bigger and stouter than they were. A row of flames burnt tall on the wicks. They had seen many perish and disappear into this belly. It was not hunger that bothered man and beast; no, he was famished for another skin to reform, another shroud to fool adversaries. Everything was a necessity—<em>everything!</em></p><p>So the serpent's massive coils writhed and wriggled whilst the groans moved through bones and muscles, like exciting sparks in its gaze that jolted it to let out a satisfied, choked hiss. As it moved the muscles forward, it fastened its jaws round the supple bosom. How tenderly was it being caressed right before her death? They would find the genitals, too, lick at the juncture and slit that would flutter in a sort of ecstasy to fool itself to believe in . . . something else.</p><p>The feet trembled still more as her face met the acid; the screams, muffled by the pulsing walls of its slickened stomach. Outside, the tiny snakes that stuck to its body, like leeches, vibrated in glee. Then it was gone, appearing as a round bulge in its body. No more screams—no more struggles. It would die out peacefully inside it to fashion a new form.</p><p>It waited for hours for her to melt: skin, flesh, bone—all gone. Not even a hair on her head remained. She had become a part of it, a new mask for a new Time. The outer shell melted away slowly, and waves upon waves of hisses moved through silence. Flames flickered, and a foetid smell suffused the air; it was of decay and rot.</p><p>It went on for several minutes, and out came the head from the foamy, white mass that had spread over the laboratory floor like a primal gush of rapture. Yellow irises looked about, two fires in the pits of a daemon's maw—accursed, unholy.</p><p>Everything was familiar: bottles, tubes, books, and all. Even the pallid light, spilling forth through the interstice between the blackened jars on the right, was the same. Everything was the same. He rolled onto his back, feeling the white slime cling to the body as though he was a filthy babe pulled out from a dying mother's womb, waiting to be given the ablution to begin his days as a mortal. Everyone was immortal in a mother's belly—everyone.</p><p>And then he felt himself change, felt the paroxysms of metamorphosis inflicted upon his newly birthed body. His genitals melted away—the bow of his cock and the flaccid testes, gone. It was no more than a lump of molten flesh in the shivering bubbles, growing dark there as the first stain of menstruation.</p><p>He felt a pain there between his legs as though someone had made a little snip and cut his flesh wide-open. Blood popped and smooth, puffy flesh rose around it to hide the small passage: another snip, another hole—each within inches of each other; one to fuck and the other to do his business.</p><p>He reached down and slid a finger down between the joining fleshes and parted them to feel the first ooze come forth from the cunt that quivered. It was made to take in a nice fat cock for senseless fucking. He was no longer a man. The reality repulsed him. Curse this ritual that drove him to madness in a hunger that was tireless—<em>Timeless!</em> He stared down his bosom and saw swelling buds appear upon his breast; they grew right before his eyes—supple, soft, round. They invited the impatient hands and lusty tongues of men.</p><p>How much had he changed in the last half hour? Too much! He stood up on two unfamiliar, frail legs. No longer was his body strong and robust: it was dainty, soft, and delicate now. He staggered to the mirror on the right, dragging bits of white slime that trailed behind him like the hair of an unsightly crone.</p><p>There he stood before the mirror and wiped a hand thoughtlessly across his face. Tonight, he wore a new visage: one that was once a woman’s. His lips twitched, and the woman smiled, too. Her nose was soft and flared slightly at the bottom; lips, plump and sweet, made for kisses; it was just the eyes that gave her away—they had this hard male edge to them a woman would never possess.</p><p>He breathed out a loud and long sigh. At least, he had something left of himself there. His thoughts went back to the young boy with the Sharingan. He would have to wait for another year—perhaps <em>two?</em>—to devour him more tenderly than lovers, eat from the inside, relish his body in a way he could not this time. (The older sibling slipped from him, but the youth that lived with him now was a meal the Gods coveted!) And, at this thought, his insides vibrated, and the slit twitched like an eager harlot's, as if he wanted his cock to fill him, too. A snake, he could wait for a new, perfect garb . . .</p><p># # # # # #</p><p>
  <strong>The End</strong>
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